


The Tracks of My Tears

by DeGuerre



Category: Weeds
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Love, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeGuerre/pseuds/DeGuerre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m just trying to understand what the hell we’re doing here, why you have a baby with a Mexican drug lord, and why I’ve lost count of the number of men you’ve had between your legs since Judah died.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tracks of My Tears

**Author's Note:**

> There's not nearly enough Judah/Nancy fiction out there for my liking, so I decided to try my hand at it.

Her chest heaved heavily as she fought to catch her breath, but that didn’t stop him from continuing his pleasurable assault on her body.  She fisted a hand in his hair as he kissed his way down her neck, across her décolletage, then gently sucked at one nipple then the other.  She gasped, her body already overly sensitive from the orgasm she’d had only a minute ago.  He’d followed her over the edge as he always did—as he’d follow her anywhere she wanted to go—but he was still hard inside her.  She’d always liked that he didn’t go soft right away, enjoyed the intimacy and the fullness of having the man she loved still joined to her for a while.  He moved his hips in a circle and smiled devilishly when the sensation of his movements against her clit caused her breath to hitch.  Many years and two kids after they first met and he still couldn’t get enough of her.  His beautiful ballerina. 

He rolled his hips again and again causing her to arch up a little and hook her legs behind him.  He took the opportunity to slip a hand under her lower back and angle her hips exactly where he wanted them.  A small thrust, a deep roll, and a hard suck on her collar bone and she was coming again.  He slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her loud, strangled cry as she tensed and trembled beneath him.  The boys were still asleep in their rooms and the walls were thin.  He winced as her teeth sank into his palm at the same time her nails dug into his back.  He was pretty sure she was drawing blood this time, but he couldn’t care less as long as she was satisfied.  When she relaxed he rolled off of her and immediately pulled her to his side.  She buried her face in his shoulder, breath hot and heavy against his neck.

“You ok, Nancy Pants?” he asked while gently stroking her back, though he knew she wasn’t ready to speak yet.  He waited patiently while she regained her composure.

“God, Judah. Why do you always do this to me?” she whispered, finally finding her words.

“Because you like it,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Thanks for realizing I’m a god.”

She rolled her eyes and slapped his chest, before breaking into a fit of giggles as he tickled her ribs.  She shivered a bit despite their combined body heat and he pulled the covers up around her shoulders.  They stayed that way for a while, cuddled up and enjoying the time alone in comfortable silence.  When her eyelids started to flutter closed, he decided to take the opportunity to let her get some much needed rest.

“Baby, I’m going to go for my run while you get a little more sleep,” he said.  He laughed as she pouted, shook her head no, and buried her face in his chest like a spoiled child.  “Oh come on Pants, I promised Shane he could go with me today.  You rest.  I’m not done with you yet, Mrs. Botwin.”

“Ok, go run and be healthy, but hurry back,” she said. 

He rolled out of bed and she rolled onto her back.  She always slept with a pillow beneath her knees to take the pressure off her lower back (the remnants of an old dance injury made her back ache if she tried to lie flat), so he grabbed one and tucked it under her legs just the way she liked.  She reached for him with both arms and pulled him to meet her lips with her hands cupping his face.

“I love you,” she said. 

He smiled, brushed her wild hair away from her forehead, and kissed her again before tucking the covers around her once more.  She didn’t mind at all that he didn’t say he loved her back.  He showed her how he felt about her every day in the way he smiled and kissed her when he got home, in the way he always rubbed her knee when he was driving, in the way he always knew just when she needed a bubble bath or a hug, and in the way he loved their children.  She was asleep before he even finished getting dressed. 

She was roused from her slumber by the sensation of Judah’s rough beard rubbing against her inner thighs while his tongue softly lapped at her.  The sensations were amplified by the fact that she was still in that grey space between asleep and awake.  She moaned softly and plunged both hands into his hair as she struggled to open her eyes—involuntarily thrusting her hips to meet his mouth in time with his rhythm. 

“Judah…baby, please…” she said breathily. 

She was so close. Her nipples strained against the sheet that was still draped haphazardly across her chest.  She just needed him to do that thing with his finger and—suddenly everything stopped.  At first she thought he was playing a cruel joke, leaving her wanting like this, and she didn’t know whether to cry or sock him for it.  Her eyes flew open and she sat up clutching the sheet to her chest.

“Judah!” she yelled, furious with him.  “Damn it, Judah!  This isn’t funny!”

He had always been a prankster, but this was just plain cruel.  She peered over the edge of the foot of the bed expecting to find him hiding under the bed trying to suppress his laughter.  Instead she found him lying there completely still and pale and suddenly panic set in.  She bolted out of bed and dropped to her knees beside him.  He was cold and she couldn’t find a pulse.  He didn’t seem to be breathing.

“Judah! Judah, wake up!” she yelled, slapping his face lightly.  “No, nononono…this can’t be happening. Judah!”

She pounded at his chest, crying hysterically and screaming that he couldn’t do this to her.  His body started to fade and she didn’t understand what was happening.  This wasn’t real.  It couldn’t be real. 

“Judah!  Wake up…please!  You can’t leave me!  Please!”

“Nancy, wake up,” said a disembodied voice.  It felt like a hand was on her shoulder, but there was no one else in the room.  She didn’t care—she just wanted her husband back.  All she wanted was Judah.

“Pants!” the voice yelled and just like that she wasn’t her house in Agrestic anymore.

She bolted upright, shaken and disoriented.  She was in a bed gasping for breath and covered in sweat.  A hand touched her shoulder again and she nearly fell out of bed jerking away from it. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were trying to break free.

“Nance?” that voice called again.  She turned toward it and rubbed at her eyes.  When they finally adjusted to the darkness she realized where she was.  She was in Ren Mar, in Andy’s bedroom, in the bed they shared. 

“Andy,” she sighed in relief. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he started.  “I was going to let you sleep.  It sounded like you were having a great dream at first, but then…”

“I was screaming for Judah?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.  I...sorry I woke you.”

“It’s ok,” he said, propping himself up and turning on the lamp on his bedside table.  “Um, you seem to be leaking there.”

He nodded toward her chest.  She cursed under her breath when she realized she was covered in more than just sweat.  There were two large milk stains on the front of her shirt.  She made a move to get up, but Andy stopped her.  He got up and went into the bathroom.  He returned and handed her a warm, soapy cloth and towel.  She ripped off her shirt and cleaned the sticky milk from her breasts and stomach while Andy pulled out a clean shirt for her.  When she was done he deposited the towel and washcloth in the dirty clothes hamper then got back in bed.  They sat in silence for a while, not knowing what you say to each other.

“You’re shaking,” Andy said.  “What were you dreaming about?”

“About the day Judah died…how we made love that morning before he went on his run with Shane.  It felt so real,” she replied, touching her still tingling lips with her fingertips.  Normally he would have a lewd comment, but instead he let her keep talking at her own pace.  She was clearly shaken and he’d never seen her that way.  “We were supposed to finish what we started when he got back, but of course he never came.  In my dream he made it back…but then he collapsed and he was leaving me again and…”

She trailed off and he grabbed her hand.  Intertwining his fingers with hers he tugged at her arm until she scooted over so they were shoulder to shoulder.  He unhooked their fingers and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  She rested her forehead against his neck and her skin felt sweaty and hot against his.  Andy had his doubts about Nancy’s love for his brother, especially with her recent behavior.  Seeing her this way—trembling and vulnerable from a dream turned nightmare—made him think the old Nancy might be fighting her way back. 

“Did you really love my brother?” he had no idea why he asked.  He regretted it as soon as the words left his lips.

Her head snapped up and there was fire dancing behind her deep brown eyes.  Her mouth opened and closed a few time and no words came out, but the big, fat tears that began rolling down her cheeks said all he needed to hear.  He grabbed her and pulled her into his chest.  She fought him for a few seconds before collapsing into him.  Sobs wracked her body until she began gasping for air so violently he thought she would pass out.  All he could do was sit there and rub her back while she cried for what seemed like hours.  He thought back and he couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry like this.  In the days following Judah’s funeral he remembered her eyes being red and puffy every morning as if she’d cried herself to sleep, but she’d kept up a strong front for her boys.  There was no one around to be strong for her. 

“I loved him so much I wanted to curl up in bed and wait to die just so I could be with him again,” she answered when her sobs settled into hiccups, “but I had my boys to think about.  They’d already lost their dad; I couldn’t let them lose me too.  In hindsight, they probably would have been better off.”

“That’s bullshit, Pants, and you know it.”  A few more tears escaped and he wiped them away.

“Then why would you ask me that question?” 

“I don’t know,” he started with a sigh. “I’m just trying to understand what the hell we’re doing here, why you have a baby with a Mexican drug lord, and why I’ve lost count of the number of men you’ve had between your legs since Judah died.”

She sat up then.  Sighing heavily, she tried to gather her thoughts.  She didn’t have to explain herself really.  It was her life, her body, her feelings not Andy’s.  Despite that, something made her want to tell him.  Maybe it was the fact that she’d never talked about this to anyone before.  She’d kept herself busy so she didn’t have to face her feelings.  Or maybe she was just too tired to keep up the façade of being alright. 

“It’s the only time I feel anything,” she stated simply.

“What do you mean?”

“The men…the sex…it’s the only time I feel anything at all,” she explained.  “I imagine it’s what people who do coke or meth feel like.  I have an orgasm or several and I feel great for a while, but then I go numb again.  The other half of my heart died with Judah, Andy.  I can’t get it back.  All the sex? It’s the only thing that reminds me I’m alive.”

Andy didn’t know what to say so he just squeezed her hand instead.  He hadn’t realized how much she’d been hurting.  Nancy wasn’t the type of woman to spend a lot of time talking about her feelings.  She was the type that reacted and survived, but that also meant she bottled a lot of things up. 

“We should try to get some more sleep before Stevie wakes up,” he said. 

She nodded her agreement and grabbed her body pillow so she could tuck it beneath her knees, then she scooted down until she was lying flat.  Andy pulled the covers up around them, reconstructed the pillow wall, and then reached over to turn off the lamp. 

“Pants?” he called five minutes later, “Are you asleep?”          

“Not anymore,” she replied.

“I just wanted to let you know that you can always talk to me, Pants…or if you don’t feel like talking, I can just be there to lean on.  I’m plenty sturdy,” he said.

“I appreciate that, now please shut up.  You already made me cry once today; the least you can do is let me sleep now.”

When Stevie started crying thirty minutes later, Andy was up and out of bed before she could even manage to pry her eyelids open. 

**Fin.**

 

 

 

 

 

 


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